Ode To The Bouncer
by FreckledSatan
Summary: Drug smuggler. Co-captain. Trafficker. Mule. Criminal. Low life. Slave. All of these things are accurate descriptions for one Harley Quinn. It seems a new connection may change that.
1. Chapter 1

There was always risk. It came with the territory. But, this was a risk she never anticipated. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't even be thinking about being here. But, here she was. And she was about to knock on the door.

Chap. 1

Don't get high on your own supply. That's a valuable lesson. Unless your supply was one of the biggest in the continent. Enough to fuel thousands, maybe millions, of heroin addicts,pillheads, and PCP fiends until they either overdosed or got snatched up by the cops and caught a case. Never if they got clean. Because, in Gotham, nobody ever got clean. And if they did, it didn't last long. In this city, drugs were easier to find than the clouds in the sky. The hardest part was finding the good stuff. Something that wasn't laced or hadn't been "stepped on" a dozen times before reaching the hands of the buyer.

The head dealers in Gotham fought for territory. There were gangs, shootouts, drive-by's, endless amounts of homicide. It was a dirty game. But, it was business.

Harley knew that. It was just business. But, it wasn't.

People overdosed in the streets every single day. Gotham hospitals were constantly running out of beds and overspilling with overdose patients. Pharmacies were being robbed for over the counter medication for whatever concoction a junkie could dream up in times of desperation. Innocent people were dying at the results of robberies or high-induced homicides. And she had contributed to it.

Well, it wasn't necessarily all her. She was just a dealer in a big, ugly, web of king pins. She was about as important as a chess pawn but, at the same time, as crucial as a knight. It was people like her that kept the cycle up and running. If she and every other stringer in Gotham chose to quit the drug game would take a blow. But, that would never happen. She knew that.

She didn't have time to think about it or to feel guilty. She had a job to do. So, she dipped into her supply. Just a tad. She took one pill and a hit of a friend's joint. With the speakers booming and the lights dancing over glistening, jumping bodies that surrounded her, a party drug was only necessary. The ecstasy hit soon after and her body felt like it was made of dripping honey. Everything was simply...great. Her night was starting with a jolt and if she kept going at this pace, it wasn't going to slow down until daylight. That was the way she liked it.

Harley knew he was watching her. He liked to perch on one of the high balconies and watch her beeline across the club, dancing and spinning. His eyes followed her everywhere she went. She loved it.

Under the club lights she saw her first customers of the night. A group of young boys who looked like Republican college kids. It was odd to see that type in Gotham but, it was spring break and Florida was probably all out of hotel rooms.

"Hey boys!" She smiled, her pigtails bouncing like something out of a cartoon.

"Hey baby!" A muscular boy in a pink button down shirt took the liberty of wrapping his arm around her waist. She hated that, but it was all part of the sale. She leaned into him, smelling the scent of vodka and cigarettes seeping from his sweaty underarms.

"Dance with me!" He shouted, his three friends forming a tight circle around the two. She smiled and giggled, turning to face him.

"Do you guys wanna have some fun?" She balled his shirt in her fist and pulled him close. The ecstasy she'd dropped made the fabric of his button down feel good against her skin. But, even the pill wasn't enough to make her want him.

"Heh, what do you have in mind?" He chuckled, tightening his hold on her waist and gripping a large hand on her hip. Harley swung her backpack off of one arm and unzipped it, revealing the copious amounts of drugs to choose from. They were packed in baggies, wrapped in plastic wrap, some packaged like mints. Each baggie had a large smiley face printed on it while each pill was stamped with the same design.

The man smiled and looked at his friends. One of the boys was sheepishly shaking his head.

"Come on dude. It's spring break!" His buddy nudged his shoulder.

"It's spring break!" Harley repeated, smiling and dangling the bag in front of him.

"Is it...Is it safe?" The shy one asked nervously.

"Oh my god!" Harley made an offended face. "You really think I would try to sell you boys something laced? Something that wasn't quality? I can't believe it." She turned to walk away. The one with his arm around her tightened his hold.

"Wait, hold on." She smirked, and then turned to face them again.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Harley."

"Well, hello Harley, I'm Johnathon. That's Skylar, and the buzzkill over here is Colin. See, now we're friends." He smiled at his buddies and pulled Harley into a sideways hug.

"Harley, you wouldn't hurt your friends, would you?" Johnathon asked. She could feel his hand lowering to her ass as he called her his friend.

"Never ever, Johnny boy." She looked to Skylar and Collin. "What can I do to prove it?"

Collin squinted at her.

"Take one with us."

Johnathon and Skyler nodded.

"That sounds fair." Skylar commented. Harley rolled her eyes and laughed.

"You boys just don't trust girls nowadays, huh." She plucked four ecstasy pills from her bag. Each was wrapped like a mint and came in four different colors. Blue, yellow, pink, and green.

"I call green!" Johnathon shouted and snatched the green from her palm.

"Hey! No fair!" Harley exclaimed. "I wanted green."

Johnathon smiled and leaned close.

"Kiss me for it."

Harley rubbed her long nails over his face and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She slid the green packaged pill from between his fingers and traded it for the yellow one.

"Now boys, it'll be fifteen dollars each."

The three boys handed her the money. Johnathon gave her a twenty and didn't ask for change.

"Alright, on the count of three. 1, 2, 3!"

All four set the pills on their tongues and threw their heads back as they chased it with a drink. Harley stuck her tongue out to prove she swallowed her portion. Each of the three boys did the same. She giggled.

"I've gotta go to the little girl's room. Meet back with you in ten!" She kissed Johnathon on the cheek and skipped off across the dance floor, savoring the taste the sugar pill had left in her mouth.

An ecstasy pill here and there was okay. But, taking one every time she did a deal? It would kill her. She knew green pills were just placebos and she fell back on them every time a client asked her to test her product. She'd even accidentally sold a few but, she'd be dead if Joker found out she was selling low quality product with his brand on it.

All over Gotham was brands of the top dealers. Penguin put a top hat on his pills or bags of H or coke. But, it was often low quality or hardly anything good enough to last. Two Face marked his product with dollar signs. It was hardly appropriate because his product was sold for extremely low prices. Sometimes even three dollars a hit. But, he cut his pills and powders with anything that remotely resembled the drugs. Things like baking powder, chalk dust, baby powder, sleeping medication, and sometimes even flour. So, unless someone wanted a small quick high or a nose full of nothing, the place to go was to Joker.

Joker was the top dealer in Gotham and his product was from foreign cartel bosses. From places like South America or Switzerland or Russia. Harley had no idea how he smuggled it in and she didn't want to know. She just hoped he never asked her to be a mule; but, she knew that day would come if she continued climbing the ranks in his little world of deals.

And she was climbing alright. She was his top stringer and the apple of his eye. She brought in double the revenue of most of his thugs and by selling only half the product. She was beautiful, bubbly, charming, and energetic. She had something his big, burly, growling goons could never have. A sense of trust, of care, and lovingness about her. She was a natural born people person and this job was perfect for her.

If she were to choose which dealer to work for, she was happy to say she worked for Joker. She'd never once heard of him lacing a hit of heroin or a party pill. He was honest with his product. He cared what people got from him. She admired that. It was fucked up to say that. But, he had this way of getting her attention.

When daylight came Harley was exhausted. Her high had ended hours ago and she was going through the aftermath of a crash. Her nose and throat were stuffy and her eyes bloodshot with heavy eyelids drooping down on top of them. She hadn't met back up with Johnathon but she was pretty sure she sold product to almost every person in the club, including a few of the bartenders. She had a backpack full of cash and a little bit of product to spare.

It was time to meet back at what she called HQ and meet with Joker to get her cut of the proceeds and re-up on supplies before she went home to rest before work later that night.

She caught a cab to the hotel he was currently residing in. He changed addresses at least three times a month and changed phone numbers even more often than that. Harley also admired the fact that he was so careful about his whereabouts.

She took the elevator ride to the tenth floor where he was. She paused in a hallway mirror to readjust her hair and clean off the slight amount of glitter from the night prior. She'd even put on perfume so that she didn't smell like sweat and Jager bombs.

When she knocked on the door, a bodyguard answered. He nodded to her and she rolled her sleeve up, revealing the small smiley face tattoo on the inside of her arm. Each stringer was given one. It was a sacrifice that had to be made if you wished to make the money Joker was willing to give to the hard working. She was willing and ready. The job gave her a rush like no other and having something so special and secretive as a tattoo gave her this...satisfaction. It made her feel important. Or like she was in on an inside joke the rest of the world was unaware of.

"Harley, dear." He cackled from the bed.

Harley skipped in, smiling at him. He was wearing the same striped slacks and polished business shoes from the club, but his button down vest, purple bow tie, and blazer had been traded for a wife beater which clung to his toned stomach. He was pale and his muscles were glistening with sweat. He was clammy from a crash off of coke.

"Hi, Mister...Mister uh," Harley never knew what to call him. Mister drug boss? Mister scary guy? Mister boss? "Mister Joker." She settled.

"Call me Mr.J. But, don't tell your stringer friends, they'll get jealous." He smiled and lit a cigarette. His long pointed chin and sharp features gave Harley an odd feeling. She was intimidated but so mesmerized.

"What have you got for daddy today?" He arched a thin eyebrow at her. Hearing him say that made her blush. She tossed her backpack to him, proud of what she'd accomplished.

He dumped it out onto the bed like a trick or treat goodie bag and smiled at what he found.

"Good work Harley girl!" He sifted through the cash, counting out loud.

"Thanks...Mister J." She blushed again, rubbing at her smiley face tattoo as she said it.

He looked up from the money and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Hey, uh...whatever your name is." He waved a pale hand at his guard. "Gimme some time alone with this one."

The guard nodded and exited the room. Harley immediately straightened her stance and swallowed hard. She'd never been in a room alone with him. He curled a finger at her, motioning for her to join him on the bed.

"What's your drug of choice, my dear?"

She sat on the foot of the bed, rubbing her arm and crossing her legs.

"Uh...Well, I like weed, Molly, X, Adderall. Things like that."

"Hm." He smiled.

"What?" She asked in a shy tone. It was odd. Harley was never shy.

"Those are rookie drugs. Coke, heroin, PCP. That's where the real high is, my girl." He ashed his cigarette onto the bible on the nightstand.

"I know. I just...don't wanna get myself into trouble."

He cackled at that.

"You're a stringer for one of the biggest dealers in all of Gotham. You aren't exactly a saint, even if you look like one." He winked at her. She didn't know how to respond.

"Speaking of you being a stringer, Harley." He stood and began to pace back and forth.

"I think it's time you uh, how should I put this…" He cupped his long fingers around his chin and used his other hand to push loose green curls out of his eyes. "I think it's time you become my co-captain in all of this."

Harley's eyes widened.

"It's a big business. I can't do it all myself and all these lowlife, shit for brains, assholes who string for me can barely tell their dick from a door handle."

Harley laughed at that and clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle it. He smiled.

"You're smart. You know how to sell. I know you're capable of much more than just dancing around nightclubs and selling to frat boys."

"Well, thank you so much." She smiled. "I'd love to."

"That's a good girl." He circled the bed until he was standing directly in front of her.

"What...What uh, duties would I have?" She asked, looking up at him. He towered over her by at least a foot and a half, even while she was standing.

"Well, you would recruit new stringers, make sure the product arrives when and where it should be going, help me deal with...unsavory people." He smiled and flicked his cigarette across the room, not caring where it landed. He leaned forward, placing a hand on each side of Harley onto the bed. "So, Harley, what do ya say, hm? Will you do that for me?"

She nodded, looking up to meet his piercing green eyes. She was uncomfortable. His stare was frightening and made her feel like she was being watched by a lifeless object such as a doll or a stuffed animal. But, something about it drew her in.

"Yeah...I mean, yes, I'll do it!" She beamed.

"Thatta girl!" He exclaimed, bringing one of his hands to her jaw and stroking his thumb over her cheek. She let out a small gasp, surprised by the feeling of his cold flesh. He felt like porcelain. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips. It was rough and hard and their teeth bumped together.

"Do you do this with all the stringers you promote?" She joked. He chuckled. Then he laughed. And then he threw his head back and cackled wildly. He shook his head at her.

"You! You!" He sighed. "You are exactly, what I've been missing."

Harley took those words and clung to them. She clung to them for the following year to come.

They'd made love for the first time that day. Well, something of the sort. It was rough and quick and they'd done it on top of the money and product. Harley had tried to kiss him during only to be laughed at while he continued to move on top of her. It wasn't as pleasurable as she had hoped, but she blamed it on his crash from the coke high.

Afterwards, he had given her her pay, no more or less than the last time, and sent her on her way. He requested she meet with him at the club later that night.

Harley headed home, feeling slightly disappointed with her first encounter of sleeping with Joker yet, over the moon with happiness at the sudden new instance of contact with her boss as well as the job promotion.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment and sprawled out on her bed, coming down from the rush of the night and morning. Her apartment was nice. The living room was filled with a matching set of leather furniture, her kitchen was full of top of the line appliances, and her wardrobe was full of designer clothing. The job paid well.

Being a single, twenty one year old woman in Gotham would usually be a hard life to live. Not that her life was exactly a carefree one. But, she never needed to worry about having money for food, or bills, or clothing, or anything she needed. She watched the people around her struggling to make it every day, struggling to pay rent, or to feed themselves. Part of her wished she could let them in on her secret little world. Boost them up the way the drug game had done for her. But, she knew that meant risking being caught or reported or even worse. So, she kept her mouth shut.

That night, Harley arrived at the club, sporting a new outfit she'd picked out just for Joker to see. She was carrying her backpack with her, dangling it on her fingertips as she approached the bouncer. The club was owned by a man named Ra's Al Ghul. He allowed Joker to take it as his territory and dealing ground as long as he received a hefty percentage of proceeds. Harley was one of the few stringers allowed to openly deal in the club. Joker had the rest of his goons on the streets, working corners and alleyways. Harley felt lucky to be granted the privilege of working in the bubbly club all night, keeping warm under the spotlights and hum of booming speakers.

She climbed the stairs to the balcony where Joker was leaning on the railing. He was already high on something. He kept flicking his tongue out of his mouth and twitching his body around in crazy jolts. Harley set a hand on his arm and felt the back of his hand collide with the side of her face. She gasped and jumped back, holding at her already sore cheek.

He laughed.

"Harley, you shouldn't sneak up on me like that."

She choked back tears and hugged her backpack close to her chest.

"So, what do you want me to do tonight?"

"What you always do. But, try and find me some new stringers, would ya? Maybe a few as pleasant as you."

He pulled her into a tight embrace. His thin, bony frame was shaking and convulsing in twitches and his face was drenched with sweat. He kissed Harley sloppily and then stalked off to a VIP section to speak with a man who looked very similar to a crocodile.

Harley shot her arm into her backpack and dug around until she found a pill wrapped like a mint. Without looking at it she popped it into her mouth and shoved the wrapper into her black miniskirt pocket. The smack had dampened her mood. She chased her pill with a drink and instantly felt bubblier. She went to the dancefloor and began to feel the rhythm of the music. She swayed with the beat, bumping into people around her and feeling a mix of her own and strangers' sweat on her skin. She wasn't even in the mood to sell right now. She wanted to dance and feel the waves of heat and numbness wash over her body as her high rose in her looked up to the balcony to see if he was watching her again. He wasn't. He was draped over a girl who looked too drunk to understand where she was. He was laughing and pulling the girl in closer. Harley frowned.

She danced until her legs burned from movement and her heart was racing like a hummingbird. She paused to catch her breath and scanned the crowd, seeing the blend of strangers all colored green from the spotlights above. Each time the beat dropped or sped up, the lights changed colors. _Boom. Red. Boom. Blue. Boom. Green. Boom. Yellow_. She lowered her gaze and across the dance floor locked eyes with a pair of bright green ones.

_Boom. Pink. _

And for what seemed like forever, the lights stayed pink. Everything seemed to blur as she stared. The eyes were coming closer. Harley walked towards them, seeing as she got closer it was a woman. She was taller than Harley and her hair was like a hurricane of fire. The music in her ears was replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat.

Suddenly she felt like she was underwater. Her chest was tight and her senses were numb. The woman stood in front of her.

_Boom. Red. _

She smirked at Harley and extended her hand. Harley took it and realized the reason her chest was tight was because she wasn't breathing. She inhaled deep, feeling like she'd broken the surface of the ocean.

_Boom. Yellow. _

Harley was pulled into an embrace. The body wasn't bony and jagged this time, but soft and warm. Their hips met, and arms entangled around each other's necks. The woman's red hair looked enchanting under the club lights while Harley's hands felt the soft fabric of her green crop top. She wondered what the girl's ripped jeans and fishnets would feel like against her skin.

_Boom. Orange._

"Wow."

She breathed, feeling the heat of the woman moving against her.

"Hi." The other woman smiled. "What's your name, pretty girl?

Harley giggled. Her high felt different this time. Not as strong as usual but, this woman was bringing it back to its peak.

"I'm Harley." She pressed her forehead against hers. "And, yours?"

"Pam." She swayed her hips in a quick movement that took Harley by surprise. "But, you can call me Ivy."

_Boom. Green. _

The dance floor was crowded and loud. But, as they swayed, everything seemed to mute and disappear. Ivy's hands cascaded down to Harley's hips. Harley responded by twirling herself so that her back pressed against Ivy's front.

"You're so beautiful." Ivy whispered into her ear.

Harley blushed.

_Boom. SMACK. _

Harley crashed to the floor. Ivy had toppled over a bit but, had managed to stay upright. Joker was on top of Harley on the ground, grabbing her by the hair and switching between slapping and punching her in the face. Harley was confused and in a world of pain. Ivy tackled him, taking them both into a nearby table which sent drinks and glasses flying onto the floor. No one stepped in, knowing who Joker was and the abilities he had.

Harley crawled to her knees and held a hand to her bloody nose, trying to calm her dizziness. Ivy and Joker rolled around on the ground for a few seconds before a bouncer tore her off of Joker and roughly carried her to the door.

Joker climbed to his feet and grabbed Harley by her backpack. He drug her to the door as she flailed her arms and legs, screaming for help. He took her to his car and threw her into the passenger side. He kicked at her a few times before he climbed into the driver's side.

"_You come into my business, you use my product, you embarrass me in my establishment!_"

He swung his fist and connected it with her lips. She curled into a ball and tried to cover her head.

"_I do you a favor and this is how you repay me!" _

He swerved the car as he continued to hit her. Harley cried until they reached the hotel. They got to his room where he did the same thing to her he'd done earlier that day, only rougher and without removing any of her clothes besides her underwear. He'd hit her again and bit large red crescent moons into both of her shoulders and the sides of her neck.

When he finished and went to the balcony to smoke, Harley went into the bathroom to take a shower. Her face was already bruising and her lip was busted and swollen. Her nose was covered in dried blood and her hair looked like some of it had been ripped out.

She stripped naked. Her skirt fell to the ground where she noticed something had fluttered out of the pocket.

It was a green pill wrapper.


	2. Chapter 2

That night seemed as if it had happened in a timeline so far away from now. In truth, it had been a fair amount of time since her and J's first fist fight. That was the last night she ever strung too. She had moved up since then. To bigger, not so much better things.

She didn't get to wear her miniskirts and skinny jeans anymore. She often wore high class dresses or blouses. Things that made her look like she was a foreign investor or something. This was apparently what Joker had meant by making her his co-captain. Sending her all over the place to do the work he was either too busy or too fucked up to do. On the brightside, she got the opportunity to travel outside of Gotham, something she'd never gotten to do. She'd gone all over since the day she became "co-captain". France, Italy, New Zealand, Brazil. Anywhere Joker's product was being sold or picked up, Harley was sent there. In reality, she was nothing more than a mule who was sleeping with the boss. But, this wasn't too bad of a gig. She enjoyed the new places, people, and cultures. The only bad part was that she missed stringing. She missed the club lights and dancing. Nowadays, she was on a tight schedule in which she had to be certain places at certain times to pick up product then, hop right back on a plane to avoid being caught by the authorities.

As of right now, she was perched over the railing of the balcony, drinking whatever complimentary champagne had been left on the dining room table of the hotel room. The breeze was blowing hard and the gray clouds were beginning to roll in. It was June in Stockholm and she was due to pick up the product in half an hour.

Harley downed her drink and went back into the hotel room. She entered the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. There was a small white scar across the bridge of her nose where Joker's ring had scathed her that night he'd caught her dancing with the woman in the club. She remembered how she'd fallen asleep in the bath that night. She woke up once the water had begun to run cold. She opened her eyes and saw Joker standing in the doorway, his tall thin frame slouching as he stared down at her and the water soaked carpet. He approached her, making her wary.

"Harl," he said, turning off the water. "What are you doing in there?" He chuckled and climbed into the bathtub with her, causing more water to overflow onto the floor. He hadn't taken his clothes off, not even his shoes. His white wife beater stuck to his bony chest as he stared, not breaking eye contact with Harley.

"Looks like you got quite the beating huh?" He laughed. "What, you get into it with another stringer?" Joker asked, running his long fingers over her cheek. Harley didn't know whether she was supposed to laugh or cry.

"No…" She answered. "You uh, you don't remember?" She asked.

He simply shook his head.

"No. Had a little too much to drink I guess."

From how bloodshot his eyes were, Harley knew he hadn't just been drinking. He was still high on something.

"Come here." He smiled and spread his arms. His arms were covered in red sores. Track marks.

Don't get high on your own supply. He'd broken rule number one.

Harley inched closer to him. She felt vulnerable and afraid. What if he was going to drown her? She should jump out of the tub and run naked to the nearest elevator. She should make a sheet rope and scale down the hotel wall from the balcony. She should-

He wrapped his arms around her. Harley could feel his heart beating slow.

"I'm tired, Harl." was all he said.

"Tired?" She asked.

"That's why...that's why I need you here. Do you understand?" He asked quietly. His eyelids began to sag as he lay his head back against the edge of the bathtub.

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that."

"Good." he swallowed. "Good."

And just like that, he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been many nights like that very one since the two years Harley began as his mule. She'd return from a trip, meet Joker in a club where they'd get into an argument, he'd hit her, she'd cry and scream, he'd crash and show a small amount of remorse, they'd make love-or some sort of attempt at that- and make up just to go through it again next time they saw each other. Harley knew it was exhausting. She knew it was no love story. But, every time he crashed and showed remorse, that very small window of time, gave Harley the feeling that maybe they could have a love story. Maybe he was capable of just being...normal.

She felt stupid when she thought about that. She didn't even know his real name. Or where he was from. Or if he was close to his mom. Or what brought him to Gotham. Or if he liked sports. Or if he even liked her. At this point, she didn't know if she liked _him_. It was just a known fact that when she came back to Gotham, she _would _be seeing him. And they _would_ fight. And they _would _end up in a power struggle- one that Harley never came out on top of.

It was just...habit.

She continued her lifestyle because she was comfortable this way. She was comfortable with her money, her adventures, her life that wasn't mediocre. As long as she kept up the flow of things. She'd be fine.

The flow goes as follows: get an assignment, fly to said assignment, pick up product, fly back to Gotham, get ass beat, wait on next assignment, repeat.

It was tiring. Almost boring.

Her phone buzzed. It was Joker.

**J: **_**Time 2 go shopping **_

That was the signal. Harley grabbed her bag and rushed out the hotel room door. She caught a cab to her destination, watching the Swedish civilians flash past her window as they sped. Within minutes she arrived. A small shoe boutique with pink paint flaking off of its cement walls.

She entered through the dusty glass doors.

"Hello!" A woman at the counter greeted her. It was empty besides a small group of teenage girls dancing around in platform heels and taking pictures of each other.

"Hello." Harley smiled. "I'm here to pick up an online order."

"Ah yes!" The woman nodded, her gray hair glimmering under the fluorescent lighting of the store. "You're here early." She commented.

"Am I?" Harley furrowed her brows and pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, flashing her now faded smiley face tattoo as she checked her watch.

The woman smiled and waved her hand. "That's fine! I've got it in the back room."

She disappeared to a room in the back of the shop. Harley leaned her elbows on the counter, listening to the girls laughing and joking as they posed in the shoes they were trying on. It'd been a long time since she'd had such innocent fun the way those girls were doing now. Everything seemed so...serious. So high stakes.

"Found them!" The woman emerged with a shoe box in her hands. She slid them across the counter to Harley.

"Thank you!" Harley took it under one arm and threw her bag over her shoulder.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, I'm sure."

"Have a nice day, ."

That was her "undercover" name. Eleanor Diamond. It wasn't what she would have chosen but, it got the job done.

Harley headed back to the hotel to pack her things and get ready for her flight back home. It began to storm just as she finished packing her last bag. It only escalated on her way to the airport. By the time she was halfway to the airport, her flight had been cancelled due to the violent winds and next flight available to the United States wasn't going to be for another three days. Joker was going to be pissed.

Harley asked the driver to drop her off at a club and to return her bags to her hotel. He did, only because Harley tipped him handsomely.

She trudged into the bar. It was called "The Underground", a place she frequented when in Sweden. It was a dimly lit club, decorated in a BDSM-esque fashion. The last three times she'd been to Sweden she hadn't been given the time to visit. To be free and careless. Tonight, she was going to do just that. She'd brought her backpack with her so she could change out of her uncomfortable blouse and business pants.

Harley decided her outfit for the night would be a fishnet crop top with black leggings and black creepers to give her the illusion of being three inches taller than she really was. She even went the extra mile and coated her eyes in black eyeshadow and messy eyeliner. She looked like neither Harleen Quinzel nor Eleanor Diamond. Tonight, she was simply a ghost, here to vanish once the lights came on.

She made her way to the dance floor, drink in hand. The club was rumbling from jumping feet and rolling thunder. The bass of the music was deep enough to be felt in her chest, replacing her heartbeat. She felt like a stringer again. She was almost tempted to scam a few of these rocker kids out of their money for some of the pills she kept in her bag. But, not tonight. Not when she was being a ghost.

She danced. And danced, And danced. The people around her took turns trying to catch her attention to talk, ask to buy her a drink, anything. She was simply deaf to anything but the music. She took a break to go to the bar and buy another drink. She laid her elbows on the bartop and put her head on her hands, trying to take a deep enough breath to get the room to stop spinning.

"Eleanor Diamond." A smooth voice behind her called.

Her head shot up.

"That's funny," The voice continued. "I could've sworn your name was Harley."

Harley turned around. She met the same green eyes she'd met in Al Ghoul's club two years ago. She felt like a deer in headlights. The woman was smirking, her hair falling in bright red waves over her face.

_Boom. Red. _

"How...What.."

Was all Harley could say. The woman took her by the hand and led her to the dancefloor. They twirled the way they had so long ago, putting Harley's back against Ivy's front.

_Boom. Pink. _

"What are you doing in Sweden?!" Harley shouted, barely audible over the music.

"More like, what are you doing in my territory?" Ivy replied, sliding her hands down to Harley's hips. Harley turned, placing her hands on either side of Ivy's face.

"_Your _territory?"

_Boom. Purple. _

"This is my club. Stockholm is my stomping grounds." Ivy wrapped her arm around Harley's waist as they moved to the beat.

"For what?"

_Boom. Blue._

"Arms."

"So you're one of them too." Harley inched her face closer.

"So are you, stringer." Ivy pulled their hips together tight.

"No" Harley shook her head. "Co-Captain."

_Boom. Green. _

"My apologies. Mule." Ivy cocked her head to the side.

"That's not…" Harley choked on her words.

_Boom. _

"Not what he calls it hm?" Ivy smirked, brushing her lips against Harley's but, not quite kissing her.

_Boom. _

"I don't.." Harley couldn't catch her breath.

_Boom. _

"Harley?"

_Boom._

_Boom._

_Black._


	4. Chapter 4

"_Would you kill for me?" He asked, embracing her from behind. His thin, bony body pressed tight against her back. She was crying. He was laughing, like always. _

_They were standing in a warehouse, one of Joker's hideouts. The place was trashed, littered with broken bottles and cigarette butts. It was dark besides the single fluorescent light above them, swaying back and forth from the breeze creeping in through the slightly open garage door. _

"_Come on, this is what you like." He growled, speaking to her through gritted teeth. The sound of screaming pigs boomed through the empty warehouse through a large speaker system. It was so loud that her ears hurt. He had his hands wrapped around hers, arms stretched out in front of both of them. His knuckles were white as he squeezed her fingers to the point of turning purple. _

_Johnathon, the frat boy from so long ago, was tied up on his knees only feet away from the two. As the light above swung back and forth, it caused a strobe-light effect, making poor Johnathon more afraid. He matched eyes with Harley, tears streaming down his cheeks. _

"_Please." She begged and turned her head away, trying to wriggle her hands out from under his grasp. It only made him tighten his grip, pushing her index finger closer to the trigger of the gun he had aimed straight at Johnathon's head. _

"_Do it now, or you're next, Harley." He shouted in a high pitched screech. She could feel his spit hit the back of her neck as he wailed. His erection poked into her lower back._

"_I said NOW!" He screamed again._

_**BANG. **_

"_NOOO!" _

_**BANG. **_

_**BANG.**_

_**BANG.**_

Cracks. There's cracks in the ceiling. Not big enough to be worried about. But, they look like spiderwebs. Big, pretty spider webs, for a big pretty spider.

Soft. Whatever she's laying on is soft. It's cold, but, a comforting cold like silk. She outstretched a hand and met warm flesh. She ran her fingertips over the warmth, appreciating the softness.

"You're up." The warmth commented. Harley turned her head and blinked slowly. It was the woman from Gotham. The woman from Gotham, who was now in Sweden. The woman who of all places to be in the world, chose to be at The Underground at 8 pm on a Wednesday night in Stockholm.

"How long have you kept tabs on me?"

Harley asked.

"Take a guess." The woman said, her smooth voice giving the air a new feel of electricity.

"Since Gotham?" Harley sat up, holding a hand to the side of her head and cringing at the pain in her skull.

"Easy, you cracked your head on the floor pretty good when you fainted." The woman sighed and sat up as well, swinging her long legs to the side of the bed and getting up to walk to the counter where she poured herself a glass of wine. She took a sip of it before turning around to face Harley.

"And no, not since Gotham."

Her hair was such a mess of curls and waves that Harley wouldn't have been able to decide if it was styled or not. It fell down her neck and onto her collar bones. Her body was accented by the green robe she wore that fell down to the floor behind her. Her skin was milky white, not a flaw to be seen. Not one freckle or beauty spot. Harley drank her in from the distance between them. She didn't know whether to be afraid or angry.

"Since when then?" She asked, slowly standing. The woman was taller than her, even without her heels on.

"About four months ago. When you were last here in Sweden." She sipped her wine again, not breaking eye contact with the blonde standing before her.

"So what's this about? You stalk me for a few months and we're supposed to just hook up or something?" Harley crossed her arms. "We danced in a club once. Two years ago. This is insane."

"If you think you're here because I have any interest in you other than financially, you're sadly mistaken, beloved." She smiled. Harley couldn't deny the twinge of pain she felt in the back of her throat. The rain was coming down hard outside and she could hear it tapping against the windows as they continued to stare at each other.

"I'm not the only one who's been keeping tabs on you, Harley." She took a step forward, lowering her glass to her side. "Your little co-captain seems to have gained a new friendship with Swedish authorities."

She turned away and walked towards a writing desk in the far corner of the room. It dawned on Harley that they were in what seemed to be Ivy's home.

"What do you mean?" Harley shook her head slowly and followed behind the woman, standing behind her as she sat in front of a computer. Ivy was pulling up photos of what appeared to be candid shots of Harley from a distance. Harley entering stores, airports, hotels. She recognized this as being the last time she'd stayed in Sweden as a mission Joker had sent her on. She had trafficked upwards of thirty pounds of heroin from that one trip via multiple suitcases lined with materials that would leave the drugs undetectable to both drug sniffing canines and x ray machines. Harley wasn't exactly sure how the material worked all she knew was that it never failed her. Joker's acquaintance, Riddler, had created it.

"Where did these come from?"

Harley asked, looking closer at the screen.

"I may not be the biggest name in Gotham, but, I've got my connections here outside the United States."

"Wh-Why would…" Harley stammered.

"Why wouldn't he?" Ivy turned around to face Harley. She stood, leaning back against the desk.

"Why wouldn't Joker negotiate with Swedish authorities to set you up to take the fall if it means he'll be safe back in Gotham? Do you think you're the first mule to ever get sent down the river by their supplier?"

Ivy's words stung. Harley swallowed hard and took a step back, setting her hands on her hips. She sighed and stuck her tongue in her cheek, looking down at the marble tile below her feet.

"Okay. So what's the end game here? Are you helping me? Do you want cash to hide me out? Are you going to turn me in for some reward money?" She asked angrily, digging her nails into her side.

"No." Ivy simply answered, shaking her head. "Joker got himself into some hot water in the states. He, the Swedish authorities, as well as the American authorities are expecting your return to Gotham so they can pin you for drug trafficking and send you away for most likely the rest of your natural life. If he gives them you, he gets off with a few years in a lush penitentiary or maybe just a slap on the wrist. If you never return, he'll just have to take the fall."

Ivy shrugged.

"What? What does that even mean? You're just gonna keep me here?"

Harley laughed.

"You're funny, Harley." Ivy smiled. Her smile was warm and attractive. "I'm the biggest arms dealer in this country, as well as London. My next goal is the states. I simply don't have the skillset that's required to run such a huge empire as the one I've created for myself. Joker had the right idea, making you his, co-captain, or whatever it is you called it." Ivy swept her hair back out of her face, making her look like a lioness, staring at her prey.

"You're a damn good salesman, Harley. You know how to read people and how to milk them of every last dime they've got. I know you can deal drugs, so I bet guns would be no different. I'm not saving you, I'm offering you an alternative to being Joker's scapegoat."

Harley sat back down on the bed. She lay back and collapsed onto the cool silk comforter and stared at the cracked ceiling, wishing she were unconscious again.

"Okay. So I deal guns for you, let J go to prison. How does that get the fuzz off my trail? I just never get to go home again? I build a new life here in Stockholm? I'd rather be in prison."

Ivy refilled her glass of wine.

"I've got enough connections here to get you off their radar. In matters of American authorities, you'll have to just lay low for a few months and return in silence. Allow some time for this to blow over. While Joker's in prison we'll wait for the other morons to kill each other off as they fight for the new title of king pin in Gotham. Once the smoke clears, we'll be on the rise. We'll be the main source of weapons as well as opioids on the east coast."

Harley sat up and chuckled, shaking her head.

"Damn lady, you've been thinking _hard _about this. How obsessed with me are you?"

"Do we have a deal or not?" Ivy asked.

"What's the pay?" Harley cocked her eyebrow.

"The pay is that you continue to live as a free individual, not a prisoner on death row."

"What? You can't be serious... I mean, that's simply just not realistic." Harley shot upwards, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'm leaving. I'll evade the cops on my own." Harley headed towards the door. As she set her hand on the door knob, she heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking. She froze.

"Leave now, and I surrender you to them." Ivy said. Harley turned and faced her, holding her hands in the air. Ivy was pointing a nine millimeter pistol at her, taken from a holster buckled onto her inner thigh below her dress. Ivy still had her glass of wine in the other hand.

"That's handy." Harley smirked and pointed at the holster. "Keep anything else down there?"

"Do we have a deal or not?" Ivy tilted her head to the side, not lowering the gun an inch.

"I want forty percent of all sales."

Harley crossed her arms across her chest.

"Thirty."

Ivy wagered.

"Thirty-five and my own apartment."

"Thirty and a bedroom."

"With a walk-in closet?"

"With a walk-in closet."

"Fine." Harley stuck out her hand. "Deal."

"Deal." Ivy tapped the bottom of her glass against the tips of Harley's fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

Time was passing slowly. It was only day three of however many Ivy planned to keep Harley there. Ivy had kept her word and moved Harley to the guest bedroom. The guest bedroom was nearly it's own apartment with everything except a kitchen. The closet was large enough it would nearly constitute as a bedroom. Of course, Harley had nothing to fill it with besides the luggage Ivy had retrieved from the hotel Harley had been residing in prior to her cancelled flight. Just one small suitcase, a makeup bag, and the box she'd retrieved from the boutique as per Joker's wishes.

It dawned on her that she hadn't yet peeked inside to see what the box contained. Harley entered the closet, crouching to her knees to open the package. The lid was easily removable. She pulled out a pair of wedge heels, investigating them. They were high end and bound with black stitching across snake skin. She held them up to the light, admiring them.

"Did he get you those from Farfetch? That shop in the square?"

Ivy asked, appearing in the closet doorway.

"Yeah." Harley answered, not taking her eyes off the shoes. "I definitely thought there'd be drugs in here." She chuckled, flipping the now empty box.

"Does he buy you gifts often?" Ivy asked.

"Only when he's done something majorly fucked up." Harley tossed the shoes onto the closet floor and stood. "Such as turning me over to the pigs. Pigs in _two _separate countries, at that!"

She looked at Ivy, leaning against the wall.

"What do you say we go out on the town, Red? No offense, but, your crib is a little boring."

"It's Ivy, and no. You're still a huge target."

Ivy walked away, Harley following after her. Ivy stopped in front of the desk where she stood, staring Harley down. She'd made it clear that she was carrying a gun at all times. It was here that she slipped the gun out from her belt and set it on the desk behind her as she pulled her hair into a half up, half down do.

"I'll put on a disguise or something. A wig and a ballcap. A fake moustache. Anything!"

"Harley. I said no." Ivy scolded her, sighing. Harley huffed and threw herself onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm and using the other to toss a pillow across the room.

"Honestly, let me go to prison!" She shouted. "At least there's entertainment there! Fights, shanking, gang activity! All kinds of stuff! There is fuck all here to do, Ivy."

"You've never been behind bars a day in your life, have you?"

Ivy crossed her arms over her chest. Harley shrugged and shook her head.

"No." She smiled. "And you know why?" She stretched out her leg, scathing Ivy's stomach with the tip of her toe. The two were only feet apart as the desk was near the large mattress.

"Cause I'm," She sat up, not breaking eye contact, slowly moving down the bed.

"Just.."

Harley stood, balancing on her tiptoes to meet Ivy's height.

"That…"

She leaned closer, her nose brushing against the redhead's own. Her hands planting at Ivy's sides on the mahogany writing desk. She could feel Ivy's breath on her lips, smooth and warm.

"Good!"

Harley grabbed the gun off the desk and pointed it to the side of Ivy's head. Ivy only smiled and retrieved a second gun from under her loose fitting sweater, tucked so nicely into her waistline that Harley rolled her eyes at the fact that she hadn't noticed.

Ivy pressed the barrel of the gun under Harley's chin, hearing her bottom row of teeth clack against her top row as she pressed it upwards. Harley exhaled slowly, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the feeling of the cold steel against her face.

"You're just that good?" Ivy said, nodding slowly. "So good that you really believe I'd leave a loaded gun out for you to use as you please?"

Harley pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. She dropped it to the floor, once again, putting her hands up. Her chin was jutting out from the force of Ivy's gun and she couldn't do anything other than stare her down.

"That was a test, Harley." Ivy lowered the gun, keeping it in her hand.

"How do you expect this partnership to work when you don't trust me?"

"Partnership?" Harley laughed. "This is more like a kidnap situation, Ivy. I'm not allowed to leave. I'm not allowed to go back home. You even took my phone."

"I told you, I took it to take them off your trail. I'll get you a new one." Ivy put the gun back in its place in her waistline. She walked away once again, Harley following.

The two exited the guest room and entered the hallway leading into the large kitchen. Ivy's home was like a botanical garden. Plants spilled off the window sills, long petals and vines swaying back and forth in every room. The sun poured in from every possible orifice and warmed the wooden flooring under Harley's bare feet. The house was luxurious and filled with deep yellow hues and oaky browns that reminded Harley of a bachelor pad from the 70's.

Ivy dressed as if she were something out of the 70's as well. Even though they weren't leaving the house, Harley saw that Ivy did her hair and put on a stylish outfit for the day, no matter the occasion. Ivy stood before her, her forest green sweater covering a white button up blouse tucked into a mini skirt.

"How long then?" Harley asked. "How long do I have to hide out?"

Ivy shrugged her shoulders, reached out to caress a petal of a fern on the countertop and sighed.

"Long enough to get the feds off your back. Give it another two weeks or so. Maybe a month."

"What am I supposed to do while I'm here then? What are you going to do? Stay here with me all day?"

"No. I've got business matters to attend to."

"Then I'll go with you. Since we're partners now." Harley smirked.

"Harley, for all we know there could be a bounty on your head. You haven't returned to Gotham. Technically, you are now a missing person. Joker has to know you're onto him and if he goes down for something he was trying to pin on you, I guarantee he'll put a target on your back for every contract killer in Gotham to have their try at."

Harley sank into the floor, defeated. Ivy crouched in front of her. The blonde rested her face in her hands and rolled her eyes.

"How do I know you're not a contract killer? How do I know you're not lying about all of this just to get me on your side of the game?"

"Do you really think I'd fabricate this entire story, just to keep you in my $700,000 house and sleeping in my guest room for no reason? Or are you just that good?"

That made Harley laugh. Ivy reached a hand out, laying it on her shoulder.

"Consider this a small vacation. Anything you feel you need to be comfortable while you're here, can be done. I'm here to accomodate you until we can get our plan going. Whatever is needed to make you feel as if you can trust me."

"Stop with the guns."

"Hm?"

"The guns." Harley said. "I don't like them."

"Okay." Ivy nodded. "No guns then."

"And I want a gymnastic mat. A bar, too."

"So you can snap your neck?" Ivy snickered.

"No, so I can show you how good I really am."

Ivy nodded.

"Done."


End file.
